The Heart of a Snake
by cupcakesandchaos
Summary: Three years after the war between the wizarding world and the Dark Lord Voldemort is over, Hermione finds that without school, her life has no purpose. Will Draco Malfoy show her what that purpose is? Rated M for later chapters! First fanfic. It shows.
1. Grave Beginnings

The truly great thing about best friends, Hermione supposed, was that they stuck by you, no matter how absurd or outrageous the decisions you made were. Her very best friend and fellow Gryffindor, Harry Potter, had himself made the decision to fight Lord Voldemort single-handedly, a decision that most found him foolhardy and brave for making. Her other best friend and fellow Gryffindor had made countless stupid decisions, including snogging Lavender Brown, touching a brain-looking creature when they had been down in the Department of Mysteries, looking for Harry's prophecy, and countless other things. When it came to Ronald Weasley, the list of stupid things that man did could go on forever. At one time, Hermione had found it endearing; now it was positively annoying. A relationship between the two, however inevitable it had seemed all those years ago, hadn't worked out. It wasn't for lack of trying; their always-clashing personalities complicated things in a way that neither Ron nor Hermione could live with for the rest of their lives. And though there had been some awkward moments after the break up, a few weeks, possibly months of not speaking, things had eventually gotten around to being normal again. Or as normal as they would ever be.

The war between wizards and the Dark Lord had ended and it was all because of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. Harry was known for surviving Voldemort's attacks under impossible circumstances and the pattern seemed to have stuck with him his entire life. Facing the Dark Lord growing out of the back of a professor's head; facing a preserved memory of him at sixteen, when he had been better known as Tom Riddle and had tried to kill his best friends younger sister, Ginny; then facing him again at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, which he had won with no feeling of victory at all due to the fact that it had resulted in Cedric Diggory's death. He had found himself facing Lord Voldemort yet again, in a violent duel that cost his godfather, Sirius Black, his life. And the last and final moment that Harry James Potter had met the Dark Lord, he had been sure he was ultimately facing death. But Harry, like with every other encounter, had come out on top.

It had been three years since that fateful day, since Hermione and her very best friends and very worst enemies had watched their beloved school and second home burn with a fire that was unlike any they'd ever seen. It had been three long years since Harry'd had to worry about his scar hurting or wonder if anyone he loved was going to be murdered by the ineffable power of the Dark Lord. However, this incredible victory had come with a price.

Losing all the people they had lost along the way was something Harry would never stop hating himself for, Hermione knew. She knew that he felt that if it hadn't been for him - despite the fact that Ron and herself had reminded him it was a cause all wizards would want to fight for, Harry or not - everyone who had died would still be alive. Hedwig, his beloved owl who'd done nothing to deserve her cruel fate; Sirius, perhaps Harry's last chance at having a normal life with someone that had come close to a parent; Mad-Eye Moody, a brilliant, if loony, Auror who had been nothing but kind to Harry; Nymphadora Tonks, a Metamorphagus who had provided humor in some of the darkest days at 12 Grimmauld Place; Professor Lupin, whom had married Tonks and had taught Harry to defend himself against Dementors in his greatest time of need; Fred Weasley, twin to George Weasley (who would now be lost without him) and one of the cleverest and funniest people Harry had known; Dobby the House-elf, whose concern for him in the past was borderline insanity but whose heart had always been in the right place; Professor Dumbledore, who had been infuriatingly patient and calm with Harry, even in his darkest moments and whom an immeasurable amount of praises could be listed for days about; Professor Snape, whom Harry had hated for so long before learning the true nature of his purpose; and of course the many others who had suffered the same fate of those closest to him.

Three years had come and gone. Harry remained faithful to those who had been lost by visiting their graves every year, though he hadn't gone alone. Hermione accompanied him every year, without Ron. It wasn't because he was heartless, but he had lost someone very close to him in the War and even three years later, it was difficult for Ron to visit this graveyard and seeing Fred's tombstone laden with perpetually blooming flowers. These people had died for Harry and he wouldn't soon forget it; the least he could do would be to drop by and chat for a while. He didn't feel foolish for doing so. How could he feel foolish when these people had so willing given their lives for him? Lupin and Tonks had left behind a child for him, a child who would grow up without parents as Harry had because of Voldemort.

It was on one of these trips to the cemetery that was just outside the village of Hogsmeade that the duo had run into an old classmate and former rival. There was no mistaking the tall, lanky body, the lithe figure that, if there hadn't been a highly distinguishable male aura around it, would have been mistaken for a girl's, the proud set of the wide shoulders, the glean of gel in the white-blonde hair that had been carefully combed back. And when this figure had realized there was someone else there, two someone's in fact, there was no mistaking the fire behind the crystalline grey eyes that had haunted Hermione for weeks after the War had ended.

Draco Malfoy was in debt to Harry. He had saved his life, though it had gone against Ron's judgment to do so, and by the look on Malfoy's face, it seemed he hadn't forgotten it. The sneer that had marked his smooth face for as long as Hermione could remember was no longer there. In the last year or so at Hogwarts, it had been there less, and instead a look of constant fear and anxiety had replaced it, a look not uncommon for the coward Malfoy truly was, but a look that he would have previously tried to hide for fear it would damage his reputation.

The pair was unsure if they should speak to Malfoy. Hermione glanced down at the headstone Malfoy had been peering at and read that it belonged to his father, Lucius Malfoy, who had been caught not long after the War had ended and had been subjected to the Dementor's Kiss. Malfoy Senior's health had been rapidly declining in Azkaban and it wasn't long after the Kiss had been performed that he had passed away. He had been buried here due to several donations he had made to the school, however selfish of him they had been, and due to the fact that he had once been a Governor for the school's board. Hermione knew Harry had never liked Draco's father and she herself had discerned from their brief encounters that he was quite a disagreeable man. He'd always been very rude to her, insulting her heritage, and Harry, for bringing down the one man Lucius had dedicated himself to fighting for, and to the Weasley family, for disgracing the purebloods. However, Hermione couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow for Draco. It was written in the pale-faced boys expression, that his father's actions had disgusted him, even after everything he'd ever put the Golden Trio through.

He'd been in league with the Dark Lord, even going so far as to having himself branded with the mark of the Death Eater (though Hermione suspected he had not offered his forearm willingly), but Hermione sensed that if Draco had believed there was a way to make it out of the Dark Lord's clutches alive, without having to swear his allegiance as one of his masked followers, Draco would have gladly taken it. She wasn't sure why she was so keen on trying to believe that Draco wasn't as bad as he seemed but there were moments when she had caught his mask faltering and she had seen through to the scared little boy that he was on the inside. She tried to imagine what Draco had gone through for weeks on end when she had learned that Lord Voldemort had planned for Draco to do something most terrible. Harry, of course, had been there to witness him falter in his task, which he had shared with both Hermione and Ron. He'd also said that there was, for once, a human quality about the usually haughty Slytherin and in that moment, it had been revealed to Harry that Draco had a heart. It had unnerved the trio, to say the least, when they had spent most of their life at Hogwarts believing that Draco hardly laid ownership to a soul, let alone a heart. But the facts had been laid out before Harry, plain to see, and this was what had caused him to save Draco's life when the Room of Requirement had caught fire by one of his goons spells.

If it wasn't for this fact, Draco's lip would have curled up in a sneer as if he had just smelled something rather foul upon seeing Harry and Hermione enter the small cemetery. Instead, his eyes said it all, while his face betrayed nothing of his inner turmoil. Hermione wanted to speak to him while Harry seemed to be silently pleading to just ignore him, but what was she to say? Sorry your dad's dead, even though he was a right foul git? She didn't think that was any way to get on Malfoy's good side and now that the War was over, she figured they could at least be cordial with one another. Malfoy solved her problem of wondering what to say when he opened his mouth.

"I don't know why I'm even here."

At first, Hermione thought that he was talking to himself. But then Malfoy looked over at them while gesturing at his father's headstone.

"I don't know why I care if he's dead or not when he used me. It may not have always been his plan for me but when he heard Voldemort was back, he was all too willing to make his first and only son a pawn in the Death Eater's game." He looked like he wanted to spit or tear his hair out; something other than just stand there and look down at his father's grave.

"He was your father, Draco." It felt odd to address the blonde by his first name, since they were so used to using their surnames. Hermione felt her hands shake as she waited for the explosion she feared would come from addressing him so directly.

The blonde, however, merely shook his head. "He was no father of mine. He may have fathered me but that man cared about himself too much to ever grasp the responsibilities of a father. Father's are supposed to play catch with you, read to you, teach you about sex and feelings you have, even if you think they're not normal-" he broke off suddenly, looking as though he'd given away too much information. He shook his head in disgust, looking as though he were mentally kicking himself for confiding in two people he'd been sworn enemies with the entire time he'd known them - the Mudblood and the Chosen One, Granger and Potter.

"It still doesn't change the fact that he's your father. You were willing to stand by him all those years, before he did what he did to you, and no amount of treachery on his part will ever take those years from you." Hermione couldn't believe how defiant she sounded, couldn't believe that she was trying to help alleviate whatever pain Malfoy was feeling. Harry was obviously uncomfortable with it; he wouldn't stop nervously alternating his weight on each foot.

"What would you know about anything, Granger? You might be the biggest, insufferable know-it-all there is, but you will never understand the things I have gone through. And you," he said, rounding on Harry, though he hadn't spoken a word, "your parents are dead, so don't go trying to defend your little Mudblood friend," Malfoy spat.

Hermione nodded and put out an arm to keep Harry from doing anything. She had seen his fists clench out of the corner of her eye. "You're right. What would I know?"

Malfoy looked as though he was uncomfortable with her conceding so easily, as if he had braced himself for a fight and was disappointed that he wouldn't be getting one. Calling her Mudblood a few more times would've made him feel positively brimming to the top with happiness. "What are you doing here anyway?" he asked, almost accusingly, as if their whole purpose had been to spy on Draco.

Harry spoke before she could and gestured towards a pair of tombstones a few feet in front of Malfoy. "Came to visit Lupin and Tonks. I do so every year." Hermione quickly added, "But if you need your privacy, we understand." She turned as if to leave.

"No!" a sudden panicky voice said behind her. If she hadn't known for a fact that it wasn't Harry who'd spoken, since she could see him and his mouth hadn't moved, she would have never believed such a sound would have come from the Slytherin. He cleared his throat. "I mean, er, I'm done here. Stay. I'll go." He walked past Harry and Hermione, almost brushing up against her to avoid stepping on people's graves, and Hermione caught a whiff of his scent as he passed. It oozed inside of her like a chemical leakage and stained her insides; she'd smell it for weeks.

When Malfoy had gone, Hermione had let go of the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding in. It had been hard to see him, so torn up, yet so heartbreakingly beautiful with such sadness piercing his eyes. Yes, Hermione Granger, best friend to Draco Malfoy's biggest targets Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, was in love with their worst enemy, which had come as quite a shock three years ago, when she realized it at the thought of Draco being caught in the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement. She knew, however, that none would be shocked more than Harry and Ron, which was precisely why she hadn't breathed a word.

She looked over her shoulder to watch the boy's procession down the snow-laden stone path that would lead him to the heart of Hogsmeade. It had been a while since she'd seen that familiar loping gait that Draco was known for. She feared it'd be longer yet before she ever saw it again.


	2. The Burrow

Meals at the Burrow had always been a favorite pastime of Hermione's. Gathering around a large table with mountains of food and bales of laughter, conversation forced out through mouths half-full of Mrs. Weasley's delicious cooking… it was near perfection. The fact that her former boyfriend was the loudest and raunchiest of all, with food all but hanging out of his mouth, couldn't spoil it for her. They were all seated outside, as the Burrows dining room barely fit the Weasley's and certainly wouldn't fit them all plus their additions.

Love was in the air that swept across the yard of the Burrow. All her very best friends were together at last and nothing could be better, a happier sight couldn't be created by any amount of magic. Seeing Ginny and Harry, happily married, Bill and Fleur, still in love as ever, and the rest of the Weasley clan and their significant others was a sight that warmed her heart. There was just one thing missing from the table.

Fred Weasley had been a great man. Despite the fact that he and his twin, George Weasley, were constantly getting into trouble and giving the professors at Hogwarts a bad time, his heart had always been in the right place. Looking at George - whose smile never quite reached his eyes anymore - sitting next to his wife Angelina without his usual spunk was heartbreaking. If you didn't know George Weasley, you would assume he had an amazing life. He had a wonderful wife, a beautiful baby girl, and another child on the way. His business, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, was more successful than ever. But there would always be a half of him that was missing and no matter how hard he tried to fill the hole in his heart with empty, meaningless things, it would never be enough. It was bad enough losing a brother, but to lose your mirror image, to lose the only person who could actually understand you 100%... the thought was too hard for an ordinary brain to handle.

Despite the somber attitude that George had adopted, the rest of the table appeared lively and well functioning, as if unaware of the fact that one of their own was suffering. In reality, it wasn't that way at all. The Weasley's knew there was nothing they could say to comfort George and they knew he was tired of hearing their words of pity; he just wanted to be left alone. At least he was still coming to the monthly dinners, no doubt because Angelina had insisted upon it.

Ron had his girlfriend of the week sitting next to him, Harry had Ginny, Molly had Arthur, Bill had Fleur, and Percy had Audrey. However, Charlie and herself were the only ones without company, a fact that Mrs. Weasley hadn't let slip past her. "Hermione, dear, when are you going to bring round a nice young man for us to meet?" Hermione paused in bringing a spoon of pudding up to her mouth. "Mrs. Weasley, you know that if there was someone for you to meet, I'd bring him around. I just haven't found anyone yet."

It didn't stop Mrs. Weasley from trying to persuade her to go out more often. She knew that Hermione preferred to be a lonely bookworm the nights that she wasn't at the Ministry, actively working for the rights of house elves and other underappreciated magical beings who deserved everything she had and more. She couldn't force freedom on the house elves; many were happy with their predicaments. But she could offer them a choice to appeal for wages or better living conditions. Anything their hearts desired, Hermione would try and make happen.

Tonight was no different than any other night. She and Charlie were still dateless and the rest of the family was so loud that it was hard to hear one's self think over the clatter of knives and forks on plates. But it was a soothing sort of sound that Hermione would be incomplete without. Why, then, did she feel as if tonight, being surrounded by the people she loved more than anything – yes, even Ron – was one of her worst nights yet? Was it because George and Angelina were expecting a new addition any day now? Was it because Ron was so obviously happy without her, despite his promises that he had once needed her to function? Was it due to the fact that Harry was looking at Ginny like he would take a thousand bullets for her? It was all of the above, even though these things hadn't been any different than last month. Hermione just supposed her awareness was more acute tonight and she couldn't ignore these blatant signs of affection.

Where was her happy ending? Why couldn't she have a boyfriend a week and be happy, like Ron? Was she really that bossy and offending to men? She liked her life to be in order. Was that really such a bad thing? Hermione had never been one to mope about due to lack of romantic activities in her life. So why was it hitting her so hard tonight?

A sudden image flashed in front of her eyes from earlier in the day: white, near-blinding snow and a boy with hair to match the garish scene. Draco Malfoy was haunting Hermione's thoughts and she knew, suddenly and without a doubt, that this was the reason she felt so pitifully alone. He still held her more captivated than she cared to admit. And today had only solidified her feelings that he really, truly did have a heart and cared about what happened three years ago at Hogwarts.

But how could she ever explain what she was feeling to the Weasley's? How could she tell Mrs. Weasley that she couldn't find a boyfriend because they weren't her once-upon-a-time sworn enemy? She could barely make herself admit the words and feelings in her head. But to say them out loud? It was nearly impossible. They would all be entirely shocked, of course. But would it go farther than that? Would anyone be angry? Would it be like trying to convince them to support her S.P.E.W. campaign all over again?

_It would be pointless_, a voice said. Hermione tried to ignore it with a mental rolling of her eyes. There was no point in getting depressed over it now. If she did, someone would surely notice and she didn't feel like playing the Muggle game of Twenty Questions. So she tucked the unwarranted feelings away inside a drawer in her mind for her to deal with later and returned to the pleasantries in front of her.

Once the dinner was over and the kids had started to fall asleep, Hermione felt that it was time to return to her own home. However, before she could leave to Apparate, she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see a pair of green orb's staring at her with concern writ all over them. "Not tonight, Harry." She knew that look, knew that it meant he wanted to talk. "I'm tired. We'll talk soon, but please, not tonight." Harry understood and with a nod of his head and a hug, he let her go and went to round up his wife and children at the fireplace, where they would use Floo Powder to get back home.

With a loud pop, Hermione disappeared from the lawn of the Burrow, and with another loud pop, she appeared just inside her front door. Working for the Ministry allowed her to establish a nice home not far from Diagon Alley. It wasn't anything really special; in fact, it was almost a much brighter, cleaner version of 12 Grimmauld Place. Instead of being draped in gloom, nearly everything was white – or some close variant of the color – and pristine, with cool, sleek lines and touches of femininity sprinkled about. Flowers in vases, pictures of adorable pixies – Muggle pictures, of course, since pixies in the Wizarding world were actually rather ghastly things – hanging on the walls in the hallway, and touches of soft, pastel colors here and there made this house her home.

Sighing, Hermione felt a weight settle on her shoulders that hadn't been there during her visit to the Burrow. The day's worries weighed heavily upon her as she stumbled towards the stairs so she could go to her bedroom and sleep. Though how she was going to get any shut-eye with her brain firing off every two seconds was beyond her. It was flickering back and forth between Malfoy and house elves, both of which seemed to be a top concern in her life at the moment. How she was going to pass a bill to allow house elves the right to vote and how (when) she was going to see Malfoy again.

She stripped down to bare skin, thinking that maybe a nice bath before bedtime would calm her frazzled nerves. She walked into the clean, white bathroom that was so spotless you would've found it hard to believe that anyone actually used it. Scouring charms were particularly useful for a neat freak like Hermione. Once she'd settled into the warm bubbly water – she'd been able to conjure it in a second, since she didn't feel like drawing a bath the Muggle way – she just let all of her thoughts go and concentrate on somewhere calm, like at the water's edge on some tropical beach.

Once she was calm and rested – and thoroughly clean with prune-like skin – she got out of the bath, dried herself off, and dressed herself in pajamas. White snow and white hair were the last things she thought of before she finally drifted off to sleep.


	3. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

**A/N**: I would just like to thank those of you who have added this story to your alerts and for those of you who have reviewed. Reviews and critiques are greatly appreciated, as this is my first fanfic and I'd like to know what I can do to improve my stories to make them more enjoyable for you.

Also, it should go without saying that I don't own any of these characters. Oh, and I love Dramione.

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The next day, things were better; not perfect, but bearable. Hermione's life wasn't exactly everything she wanted it to be, but sleeping off yesterday's overwhelming depression helped clear her mind so that she could focus on her day's tasks for the time being. When she'd attended Hogwarts, there had always been something to occupy her time, whether it had been reading, doing homework, or trying (and failing) to keep her best friends out of trouble. Now it seemed like she had to go out of her way to find things to do.

Hogwarts was now out of the picture and Hermione felt like she had nothing in her life. Her friends were all happily married and busy with their families, and even Ron was too busy for her, whether he was dating or going to practices for the Wimbourne Wasps, the Quidditch team he played as Chaser for. Everyone in her life was busy with one thing or another and all Hermione felt was that she was restless. Sure, she had a wonderful job at the Ministry, taking care of the rights of magical creatures. But when it came down to it, not many of them really needed – or wanted – her legal assistance. It was more like what Muggles would call a part-time job than anything and she knew that wasn't what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, as happy as it made her, strictly on the terms of short-term goals.

But what did she want to do with her life in the long-run? And why did it seem like whenever she asked herself that question, her mind got fuzzy and she could never see the answer? Shouldn't she, Hermione Jean Granger, of all people, know what she wanted for herself? She was so used to planning out her life and mapping out the best course of action for everything that it seemed absurd that she had no idea what road she was supposed to take to lead her to her unknown destination. Not knowing scared Hermione. And it was for precisely this reason that she left the house and busied herself with shopping. She didn't want to think about it anymore.

Muggle shops could only be so fascinating for a Muggle-born. Hermione had spent eleven years of her life believing that these shops were all there was to shopping. But on the fateful day that she learned of her magical heritage, her life views had completely altered. Now there was Diagon Alley, a place that encapsulated all of her wildest hopes and dreams, a place she used to love visiting to absorb the rush of school shopping. Potion ingredients, books, animals, cauldrons, robes, brooms… whatever you needed to make your year at Hogwarts complete, you could find it there. And often times, like today, Hermione found herself going to visit just to relive some of those memories, to see if she could remember what it felt like to be an awkward eleven year old buying her very first set of magic books or getting to hold a wand for the first time.

And of course, it was always amusing to people watch. Old, frantic witches and wizards would scurry down the cobblestone streets, trying to get out of the way of the stampede of young children, faces eager and bright as they took in the magical scene that surrounded them. They were so hopeful and their faces so untouched by the horrors that Hermione had seen, she felt jealous as she sat outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and ate a peanut butter and strawberry ice cream, a treat from her childhood.

Sitting here, watching kids run back and forth from store to store, was calming and had just the affect she'd hoped it would. But suddenly, every ounce of calm drained out of her as she heard a familiar drawl from somewhere in the vicinity. She begged her eyes not to wander, hoping that she was just imagining things. It wasn't that she didn't want to see Draco Malfoy… it was that she didn't want him to see her. She didn't know if her heart could handle his torture today. It was true that he hadn't said a mean word to her (if you weren't counting his outburst at the graveyard, which she figured he'd said in a moment of passion and not because he really meant it) in a long time but that was always when the two were alone. She had no idea what he would do in the face of other people, as Malfoy usually never missed an opportunity to belittle someone for a few good laughs.

Also taking in to account the fact that Malfoy severely needed to get back in the good graces of those who'd lost faith in him once his father's secret agenda had been revealed, she was doubly unsure of what his intentions would be. So instead she focused on scraping the leftover ice cream out of the bottom of her Styrofoam cup and ignoring him. She ignored him so successfully, however, that he was suddenly sitting across from her and she hadn't realized how he'd gotten from Point A to Point B.

"Malfoy?" she asked, unable to hide the curiosity and surprise in her voice. "Who else?" he asked with a smirk. Typical. "What do you want?" He leaned closer to her, his elbows on the black, metal table that separated them. "Just checking up on my dear old friend." Something in his tone of voice alerted Hermione and she looked at him, disgusted. "If you're trying to use this opportunity to make it appear as if you and I are anything remotely close to _friends_, you're even more of a git than I thought." She stood, indignant as always, and marched off. Malfoy leaned back in his chair and sighed. Well that hadn't gone as he'd hoped.

Hermione really had no idea where she was headed but when she was standing at the end of the alley in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, she figured this place was as good as ever. She opened the door and slid in to blend in with the crowd, enjoying the loud chatter of students and the bright colors of the packages of Fred and George's signature and unique merchandise. Over the heads of the small children, she spotted a flame of red hair and smiled to herself. A visit with George, though sometimes they could be depressing, would be enough to get her mind off of things for a few minutes.

Hermione braced herself against the onslaught of small figures pushing against her in a sea of excitement and braved the treacherous waves of happiness to push through the throng towards her long-time friend George. As soon as he was done helping a customer, he turned to her and smiled brightly, though it was fake. "Ah, Hermione! Finally, a familiar face. Back to school is always so crazy and makes me envious of the little buggers. I'd love to see the professor's faces when they realize Weasley's Wizard Wheezes have infiltrated their beloved castle. I'm sure Filch will be searching for them but some of these young'ns… they're as devious as me and…" he trailed off, his smile faltering. "Anyways, what brings you here? Looking to get revenge on Ron? Someone at the Ministry perhaps?" he said, with a devious grin that could almost rival Peeves' – if it had been genuine.

Hermione smiled and shook her head, loving that he'd just rambled on. It was the most he'd spoken to her in a while. "No, nothing of the sort. Just came in to browse and say hi. Plus, Malfoy cornered me at Fortescue's and I needed a quick escape route." George waggled his eyebrows at her. "Need something to get the pest off your back? If so, I could show you a new shipment I received just this morning that would do the trick!" She saw in his face that he was clearly hoping she would be interested and she almost agreed just to make him happy. "No, I don't think he'll find me in here. Not sure he'd have the courage to step foot in here anyways."

"It's pretty bad, isn't it?" George asked suddenly, with such a look of deep contemplation that she suddenly thought she was looking into the eyes of Bill or Charlie. "Wh-what?" Hermione asked, faltering in her uncertainty at the unfamiliar look gracing his features. "Oh come off it, Hermione. I may not have been your best mate but I think that makes me more susceptible to reading the emotions you clearly try to hide from Ron and Harry. I can see what they're not expecting." Hermione's heart seized up and she almost stopped breathing. "What are you getting at George?" He smirked suddenly, so reminiscent of Draco, that it was almost hard to look at him. "I know how you feel about Malfoy. And I can guarantee it doesn't coincide with how most of us feel."

This was it, the part where George would tell her off for feeling the way she did, the part where he'd throw an ultimatum in her face, saying she'd have to tell Harry and Ron or else he would. So she braced herself for it but was surprised when he smiled softly instead. "Look, if we were still in school, I'd probably be giving you a hard time about it. But you're bloody smart, Granger, and not just when it comes to books. You know people better than you know yourself half the time and if you believe that Malfoy is worth your time and effort, then there's obviously something we don't know about him that you do." Hermione didn't want to hear this for one reason and one reason only. She was afraid that not everyone would share George's sentiments and she didn't want to get her hopes up. So instead of responding to his words directly, she merely said, "I doubt it matters. I might believe him worthy but I'm not so sure he feels the same."

George smiled a feral smile. "Well he's bloody fucking stupid if he passes up on a wonderful opportunity like you." He looked up and then back at her. "And if you were hoping to escape him by thinking he wouldn't step foot in here, you've clearly underestimated him." Hermione froze and heard shuffling feet behind her. His presence was almost so overwhelming that the high vaulted ceilings and the wide expanse of the store suddenly felt too small for her.

"Granger," said the drawl at her back.

**A/N**: Should I write things in Draco's perspective next or continue on in Hermione's? Leave your thoughts in a review please!


	4. Le Poisson Bleu

**A/N**: I would like to thank _MegaraMegumi _for her lovely review. I'm glad you're enjoying it! Your review has propelled me into writing the next chapter, so I'm dedicating this to you. Hope you enjoy!

As always, I don't own any of the characters, worlds, terms, or anything else copyrighted by JK Rowling.

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It was unlike Hermione to curse but a swear word escaped her lips nonetheless upon hearing her name from the one voice that could literally make everything in her life seem unimportant. She hadn't accounted for the fact that Draco didn't give up easily when she'd made her escape to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. That was the only reason she was shocked he was here. If she'd been thinking straight, she'd have remembered that Malfoy was ruthless in his ventures. Still, she didn't want to turn around. How much of the conversation with George had he heard? His presence was stifling her, however, and she knew she couldn't ignore him forever. She hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing so she squared her shoulders, turned around, and looked him directly in the eye.

"Malfoy," she said with a curt nod.

Draco smirked, pleased to note that there was a slight quiver in her voice and a certain unease in her eyes. So his presence was affecting her? Good to know. He'd make a mental note to exploit that when he could. Not yet. First, he had to get in her good graces, but not without toying with her for a bit. "You seemed to be under the impression that I'd struck up a conversation with you outside of Fortescue's place for appearance's sake. Do you really believe me to be that petty schoolboy still?"

Hermione snorted. Why was he trying to play coy? "Of course I do, Malfoy. You can't just forgive someone their past mistakes because they fought alongside you in a war. In case it's slipped your mind, we'd been fighting against each other for six years prior to that battle. Things don't change just because you realize your father was a cowardly git with nonsense for brains."

Oh how she would pay for that one.

Malfoy, however, looked unabashed. "Of course, Granger. I, however, pegged you as the type to at least remain cordial to those you loathe."

Hermione's brows furrowed. "I don't loathe you, Malfoy. That would require too much energy that I would rather not exert when it comes to the likes of you." She'd never prided herself on her lying abilities but she was certainly making them believable now. She had to.

"Be still my beating heart. The Granger doesn't hate me. I may just jump up and down with glee." Malfoy smirked.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "Was there any real reason you followed me, other than to berate me and make yourself into an even bigger prat? Or are we done here?"

"Done? Oh, no, Granger, you and I are never done. You see, we have plans tonight."

She tried to get passed the way he said "you and I" and instead focused on the shocking revelation he'd just made. "We have plans? I don't seem to remember agreeing to go anywhere with the likes of you."

"Oh you don't have to agree Granger. I already know you'll say yes. You see, I have an offer you simply won't be able to refuse. It must be dreadfully boring in that office of yours at the Ministry. Not to mention the fact that it's probably frustrating that none of the house-elves or whomever you're serving these days actually want your help. But perhaps I can help you there. All you have to do… is go to dinner with me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Why should she trust Malfoy? He'd given her no such reasons to do just that at all in all the years they had known each other. How did she know that this wasn't a trap? There was no reason for his games, and yet why would Malfoy want to be seen with her in public? Wouldn't that tarnish his already abused reputation, if you could even call it that? "Why? What's in it for you?"

Malfoy laughed, something dangerous and alive glinting in his eyes. "Oh, there's plenty in it for me, Granger, you just have to accept my invitation and you'll find out, later tonight."

She contemplated his words. "How do I know this isn't a trap? How do I know you're not planning on embarrassing me?"

Malfoy was starting to get irritated now. "Granger, I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a liar. I give you my word that tonight will hold no tricks or traps. Nothing bad or harmful lies in store for you, unless you happen to be allergic to the food you order tonight."

Hermione couldn't say she wasn't intrigued. And her reflexes were good enough that she could easily defend herself with her wand if the need arose. And so she made up her mind then and there. "Alright. I'll go. On one condition. I pick the reservation and YOU meet ME there."

Malfoy bowed slightly. "As you wish. Send an owl with the time and place to the Leaky Cauldron. That's where I'm staying. See you tonight Granger." He turned to George, who was watching their conversation with wary eyes. "Weasley," he said with an inclination of his head. He smiled and turned around, leaving Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Hermione turned to face George. "Merlin, help me. I'm going to dinner with Draco Malfoy."

George grinned. "Hermione, I don't think even Merlin can help you out now. But I do have a few things you can take with you. As a backup plan," he added hastily at the offending look she'd sent his way.

And so together, they rummaged around through his store to find a few small things for her to take with her, just in case Malfoy was planning on going back on his word. She left him with half the galleons she was supposed to pay (as he wouldn't let her pay full price) and a thank you before she left the brightly lit store and returned home.

...

"Ginny!" Hermione was most happy that her friend had been able to break away from her familial duties for an hour or so to help Hermione prepare herself for the night ahead. Hermione told her she needed help picking out an outfit to wear for a date (with whom, she hadn't said) and the redhead was all too happy to help.

"Hermione!" the girl, no longer a girl but a woman, a married woman with a child, exclaimed in return, launching herself out of the fireplace she'd arrived in via floo powder and towards Hermione with a grin lighting up her features. "Oh, you had no idea how excited Harry and I were to hear that you're finally going on a date!" she gushed as she hugged her. Pulling back, she gave her a look and Hermione knew what question was going to follow. "So who is he? Or is it a she, perhaps? Giving the other side a try Miss Granger?" she asked with a laugh.

Hermione rolled her eyes and returned the hug. "Of course not! You don't know him though."

"Ooh, is he a Muggle?"

Hermione laughed. "No, definitely not a Muggle."

"Then how do you know I don't know him?" Ginny pressed.

Hermione smiled and chewed on her lip, contemplating whether or not she should tell Ginny. She had a feeling that Ginny might be as accepting as George but what about Harry, whom Ginny would most definitely inform of this? How would he react to knowing that she was going on a date – or a business meeting, whichever – with his long-time enemy, Draco Malfoy? Certainly not pleased was her guess. But this was Ginny, the girl she'd confided in about _everything_. When she'd been vying for Ron's affections, she and Ginny had always talked about it. When Ginny'd been trying to get Harry to notice her in school, Hermione was always there with an open ear. She deserved to know the truth. "Alright… but you might be mad. And you have to promise you won't tell Harry! I know, I know," she added at the girl's look of disbelief, "I know it'll be hard but please, Ginny, you don't understand. What I'm about to tell you… if Harry knew, it could mean the end of our friendship."

Ginny led the worried Hermione over to the sofa and sat down beside her. "It's alright, Hermione, whatever you say will stay between us, I promise. I kept my mouth shut when you liked Ron and I can certainly do it again now. You're my best friend, 'Mione. I'd do anything for you." She smiled and all of Hermione's worries were released.

She gushed about everything, starting back to when she had first realized her feelings for Malfoy, taking her through the years and the recent meetings they'd had, all the way to a few hours prior in her brother's wizarding joke shop. "Wait, wait," Ginny said, holding up her hands; Hermione braced herself for anger. "You mean to tell me George knew you liked Malfoy and he never said a word?" Hermione merely nodded, at which Ginny's face split with a grin. "What a good man he is. And good thinking on his part, giving you a few of his products for backup diversions if you need a quick escape. Alright, so Malfoy propositioned you and you accepted. What do you think he wants with you?"

Hermione shrugged. "I haven't a clue. I'm still trying to work my brain around it. He said he'd make me an offer I couldn't refuse."

Ginny laughed and shook her head at the line from the Muggle-movie. "He said that? I thought purebloods didn't want anything to do with Muggles." At Hermione's look of confusion, Ginny replied, "It's from a Muggle movie. When dad was on his television kick, he made us watch all kinds of movies. 'The Godfather' was one of his favorites."

"Oh, right. I've heard of that movie. I've just never seen it." So Malfoy'd been watching Muggle movies then had he? Or were his words simply a coincidence? It certainly said something about him if he'd been engaging in Muggle-like behavior. "So you're not mad?"

Ginny smiled and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I'm a little miffed that you didn't tell me sooner, though I can understand why you didn't. But no, Hermione, I'm not mad. You know as well as I do that you can't help who you fall in love with, no matter how much it might hurt you in the process."

Those were exactly the words Hermione had needed to hear and she patted herself on the back for braving up and telling Ginny. "Though, I don't think it would be too terrible if you told Harry. He'd be more likely to understand than my git of a brother."

There was absolutely no way she was telling Ron. Things would blow up for sure. "Let me see how tonight goes. Right now, I need to know what to wear. I was wondering if I should go with business casual or formal casual."

Ginny tsk'd. "Oh, no, Hermione. You're not going with casual tonight. You're going to liquefy Malfoy's eyes and make him want what he can't have. Send him an owl, telling him you'll be at _Le Poisson Bleu_ at exactly 6 o'clock and you won't wait for him any longer than 6:01. Go on, go on."

So Hermione rose from her seat, grabbed a bit of parchment and a quill, scribbled the information Ginny had given her, and tied the letter to her owl's leg. "Deliver this to Draco Malfoy at The Leaky Cauldron." She watched the owl take flight out her window and turned to face Ginny, feeling like she'd just been hit with a Jelly-legs Jinx.

"Come on, Hermione, we're going to make Malfoy hate himself for calling you a Mudblood." The smirk on Ginny's face was akin to that of a deadly predator and instantly, Hermione felt more at ease. Tonight was going to be very, very interesting.


	5. A Business Proposition

_I can't believe I'm doing this_, Hermione thought to herself.

If you had told her that in a matter of minutes, she would be meeting with Draco s_odding_ Malfoy for some vague business proposition, she would have laughed in your face. Better yet, if you'd have told her she would go looking like some glamorous Hollywood movie star, thanks to Ginny and her innate ability to put together a decent looking outfit, she would have hexed you across the room and stalked away, mildly annoyed.

And yet… here she was, sitting at a small table dressed with a fine tablecloth, two shiny, crystal wine glasses, the required implements for eating, and a napkin folded into a complex design that Hermione could never mimic, no matter how many times she'd pulled them apart and tried to put them back together. She couldn't believe it.

The elegant French name of the restaurant certainly suited the small, lavish, and apparently highly popular gathering area. Despite the fact that it was a Muggle-run establishment, Hermione felt more out of place than ever. Surely even Draco would be better suited for a place like this. Though her parents had always sat on a comfortable fortune, they had never indulged in overly expensive or luxurious things, preferring to save their money for their yearly holiday trips instead of small, unnecessary trinkets or trips to restaurants where the appetizers cost more than her daily pay at the Ministry.

Hermione glanced at her Muggle wristwatch, seeing that Draco had three minutes until he was late. However, as soon as she looked up, she spotted the familiar white-blonde head talking to the maitre d', whom instantly turned and pointed in her general direction. Hermione stood, smoothing the silk fabric of her dress' bodice. A pleased smile worked its way across her face when she noticed Malfoy falter just a little as he approached her table.

"You were nearly late," she gently reproached him.

He grinned. "Nearly. I have not yet let you down, fair maiden." He rounded the table to guide her chair towards the table once she had sat down again and then made his way to his own seat, directly across from her. The table wasn't that wide, so they were closer than she was used to, their knees brushing underneath the tablecloth.

Draco easily made himself at home, signaling for a bottle of wine before turning his full attention back to Hermione. "I'm sure you're undoubtedly wondering why I've invited you here." He paused as the maitre d' offered him a bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild, which Hermione knew cost a hefty sum, and to which Draco nodded enthusiastically. Draco glanced at her with a look that plainly said not to worry about the cost of things and just enjoy. It might have been her idea to come here but it seemed he was going to foot the bill. Always the gentleman in public, it seemed.

Once they were alone again, Hermione opened her mouth to speak. "I'll admit that I've thought up several scenarios, each of which seems just as unlikely as the next. So instead of indulging in childishness and wasting my breath and your time by making guesses, I'll just allow you to get on with it and tell me exactly why you've asked me for my company tonight, expanding upon your rather vague business proposition."

He smirked at her, taking his crystal wine glass in hand, gently swirling its contents about and taking a deep inhalation like a regular connoisseur of wine. He took a sip before answering her, signaling for her to do the same. Hermione reached for her own glass, mimicking his movements, and smiling a genuine smile when its pleasant taste settled upon her taste buds. "That's delicious," she commented.

He nodded but said no more about the wine. "As I'm sure you know, Granger, my business deals with plants from various locations around the world. I'd always felt I was destined to work with plants, but not quite like a Herbology teacher might. More like how a Potions Master would utilize them, though I'm much too independent to be a professor and I admit that I would probably be harsher on children than Snape."

Here Hermione snorted indelicately into her wine glass, which provoked a raised eyebrow on Malfoy's part. "Hardly," she said, once she'd set her glass down upon the smooth, white tabletop. "Despite how much of a prat you were as a child, you handle any social situation with a grace that's almost unnerving; it's so perfect and collected. You could handle children just fine but I rather agree that you wouldn't do well in a teaching post."

He raised his glass to her, though whether it was in a mocking fashion or not, she couldn't be sure. After taking a sip, he continued on. "However, there are some rare finds that would greatly aid my business that I just haven't been able to get my hands on. This is where you come in."

They were interrupted by the maitre d' asking for their orders and once they were placed, they were free to talk once more. They'd both ordered something that was expensive and incredibly difficult to say in French but both of which sounded delicious. "How can I help you, exactly? My work is in helping house-elves and other such unfortunate creatures with legal matters."

He nodded. "Precisely. You see, your legal jargon pertains not only to house-elves and the like. Knowing you, you're sure to have studied the entire set of Wizarding laws and all the loopholes around them. You're the youngest person to have been initiated into the legal offices of the Ministry in over a decade and as much as it pains me to admit this, you're the smartest person I've ever met."

Hermione wasn't sure whether it was the wine or his compliment, but she felt her cheeks heat and paint themselves red. "I'm still not sure what you're getting at. You want me to find some loophole to get you access to some plants?"

Draco shook his head. "The Orient is very… protective over their plants. They like to remain the top leaders in Potions, as their plants can only be found within the lands that fall under their jurisdiction. I want you, Granger, to aid myself and my company as our legal spokesperson and attorney so that we might gain access to the Orient. If anyone can convince someone to see things our way, it's you."

Hermione felt overheated and overwhelmed with the compliments and propositions that he was laying at her feet. He was offering her a rare gem of an opportunity that fulfilled some of her greatest wishes and desires. The need to work within the legal system of the Ministry was the only thing keeping her interested in her job and she had to admit that house-elves were very reluctant to take her up on any of her offers. If she accepted Draco's offer, her legal knowledge would actually be put to use and perhaps make her feel like a viable part of society once more.

Also, the idea of traveling across the continent was a thrilling prospect that had Hermione's eyes glazing over in desire. She could daydream endlessly about different places to visit, different Wizards with whom she could discuss the Wizarding life with, and any number of things that her heart desired. And, she admitted, the idea of doing this all alongside Draco Malfoy, her employer and long-time love interest, certainly added appeal and made her greatly consider his words.

She knew that his offer was sincere. Malfoy had always looked out for his own skin and would use anyone or anything to get what he wanted. If a strong legal backing was what he was looking for, offering the Ministry's youngest and wisest worker a job alongside him was the smartest move he could make. However, Hermione was no naïve schoolgirl. She refused to agree to anything so readily without talk of other crucial points.

"It sounds like a wonderful opportunity," Hermione murmured.

"But…" Draco prodded.

Hermione couldn't help the smile that stretched across her face. "But there are other matters to consider. I have a home here in London. I can't just give that up. And what of my pay? Is it to be matched to what the Ministry is offering me?"

Draco's relief was nearly palpable. "Granger, if that's your biggest worries, you might as well just accept the deal and leave the rest to me. Your pay will be far greater than anything the Ministry can or will offer you and your housing situation will be dictated by wherever we find ourselves in any given moment. Your house here in London will be maintained while we're away, extra enchantments put upon it in your absence."

Just then their food arrived and they began to eat, Hermione chewing over both the French delicacy and his words. "How long do I have to consider it?" she asked between bites.

Draco looked up from his plate at her, his eyes narrowed slightly. "How long will you need?"

Well, at least he seemed willing to be accommodating. "No more than a day. I'd like to talk it over with some… trusted advisors, that's all."

He snorted, taking another sip of his wine. "Potter and Weasel-bee, you mean."

She shrugged, cutting her meat with her fork in the proper way she'd always been taught. Draco's eyes watched her with something akin to approval in them. "Perhaps. They're my best friends and I'd like their opinions on this."

He raised an eyebrow. "You do know that as soon as you tell them who's offering you this deal, they'll tell you to decline."

She shook her head. "I won't tell them who's offering me. I want them to consider what's actually being offered rather than who's offering it to me."

"They're going to find out sooner or later," he pointed out.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I'll tell them once they've given me their answers. Just give me a day and you'll have your answer."

He considered her for a moment, watching her just as warily as she watched him over the rims of their wine glasses. After a few moments, he apparently found what he was looking for in her eyes, murmured his agreement, and returned to eating.

They spent the rest of their meal chatting about various topics and Hermione was surprised to learn that Draco was extremely well-cultured and learned on various topics, some of which she'd never even heard of. She discovered that he spoke many different languages, had homes in at least five different countries, and had bed as many women as the rumors had said back in their school days at Hogwarts.

That particular rumor had always intrigued Hermione more than she'd cared to admit. Not because she was jealous but just because she wondered how it was possible to sleep with so many different girls and never once get roped in to a relationship with them. Granted, all girls knew Malfoy's stance on relationships. The closest thing he'd ever had to one at Hogwarts had been the ever-persistent Pansy Parkinson, who constantly felt the need to attach herself to Draco's arm whenever in his presence. And yet, most of the girls Hermione knew were fantasy driven and foolish at heart and surely dreamed of being the one to finally get Draco to settle down. How had he managed to avoid such a thing and the disaster that had surely been brought upon his rejection of their proposals?

Well, he was Draco Malfoy after all. It seemed he did everything with an indecent amount of perfection that seemed impossible for a human to be capable of.

By the time they had both walked to the front of the restaurant, Hermione's head was spinning with wine and Draco's proposition. Together, they sauntered around the building like an ordinary couple taking a stroll until they happened upon a designated Apparition point marked by a single yellow star carved into the cobblestone ground. They perched upon it and Hermione Apparated to her doorstep, whereupon she extricated her arm from Draco's.

She turned to him with a polite smile. "Thank you for dinner tonight. I will Owl you with my decision once it has been decided. You'll be staying at The Leaky Cauldron again?"

He said nothing, only stared down at her, and only now did Hermione seem to be aware of just how much taller than her he was. He looked like he wished to move closer or say something but then he suddenly shook his head and stepped back. "Get your Owl to me as soon as possible, Granger." With his infamous smile and a loud _pop!_ he was gone.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione retreated inside her home, changed out of her lavish clothes into some more comfortable Muggle ones and Floo'd over to The Burrow. Better to get it over with now rather than wait and risk angering Malfoy if her decision came too late in the day. She was already half-decided that she wanted to go but she needed to be sure that her friends were behind her no matter what and that they supported this life-changing alternative to her job at the Ministry.

Once she arrived at The Burrow, she stepped out with a sigh and went to meet her friends. Tonight was going to be a long night.


End file.
